Change of Pace
by SereneCalamity
Summary: Derek was used to being the one who needed to be in charge of everything. Sterek. OneShot.
_So I'm reasonably new to the whole_ Teen Wolf _scene, but I'm kind of in love. I really don't know who I ship the most, I'm kind of all over the show, but I'm completely in love with Dylan O'Brien and Daniel Sharman. Anyway! This oneshot was started a while ago, while I was on season two, and so that's why it's Alison with Scott in here, not Kira._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. Damn it._

There was never a question about who was in charge.

It was Derek Hale.

Of _course_ , it was Derek Hale.

He was the oldest.

He was the biggest.

He was the smartest.

And above all else; he was the _scariest_.

They were this band of misfits and strays that no one else wanted and had rejected years ago, and they had all slowly found each other at one or another, leading them all to this point in their lives. And they were all quite content with where they found themselves now. There was about eight of them, all living in Derek's family home that had been left to him after his parents and two sisters had been killed in a car accident a couple of years ago.

Scott McCall was a little bit different from the rest of them, though. Scott wasn't as lost as them, because his mother was still alive and well, although living a few thousand miles away, and he called her every Sunday night. He had moved in with them a couple of months ago because he was dating Allison Argent, one of the girls who had been living in the Hale house for over a year now. Derek liked Scott; apart from Derek and a couple of the other people in the house, Scott was the first person Allison had trusted since the messy business with her parents. So Derek had no problem when Allison had asked if he could move in—and it wasn't as though they didn't have the room.

And then there was Stiles Stilinski.

Scott's complete clumsy, attractive, loud-mouthed, funny, overly-confident, smart and did he mention _attractive_ best friend.

There was just...There was just _something_ about Stiles.

Everyone else in the household had met Stiles first, and he had heard them talking about him at one point or another but it was actually almost two months after Scott had moved in before he even met the kid. Jackson Whittemore didn't seem to like him at all, but that wasn't unusual. Jackson didn't like anyone. Lydia Martin seemed to like him well enough though, and her judgement was generally better than her boyfriends. The rest of the group seemed to like him as well, it even sounded like Malia Tate might have a little bit of a crush on him.

Which he totally got from the first time he met him.

He was working late, but he had told the rest of the household that they could have a few drinks. Lydia and Allison had been begging him for the past few weeks, wanting to let go and have some fun. Derek hadn't been too keen on it at first, mainly because he knew that the next morning, _he_ was going to be the one doing all of the cleaning up. But they were young, and they wanted some fun, and he figured he could just go to his room and shove some headphones on.

However when he pulled up outside his home, he definitely _hadn't_ been expecting there to be a dozen or so cars parked in the driveway and to have his home overflowing with strangers.

"What the fuck?" He growled. Derek was pretty sure that there had never been this many people in this house. Even when his family had been alive, his father had never been too much of a people person, so he wasn't too keen on lots of people being in his space. Around Christmas and Thanksgiving, Talia Hale managed to convince him to let family members come over, but there was never _this_ many people.

"Hey, man," came a slurred voice of some kid who looked like he was about two seconds from passing out.

 _Or_ throwing up.

Which he promptly did, all over the front of Derek's car.

"Aw, sorry, man. Was that your car?" Derek didn't even know how to respond without ripping the kids head off in annoyance, so he just kept his mouth shut and stormed inside. There were a couple of people making out in the doorway, and Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd were sharing a joint. They both straightened up and managed almost guilty expressions when they saw Derek walking in, but they were both too drunk and stoned to feel as bad as they would in the morning.

He was going to kill Lydia and Allison.

"Oi! Oi, stop that! _Dude_ , this is _not_ your house! That is _not_ your blender!" Came a cry and Derek's eyes flew open, thinking back to the expensive blender that he had splurged on a few months ago and had been his pride and joy. He didn't let anyone else in the house touch it, and had made it explicitly clear what he would do to them if they used it.

And it was now being wrestled between two young men.

One of them, who looked sober, managed to get it away and he glared at the other man, lifting it up and putting it on top of the fridge, away from drunken groping. The other kid looked angry, but then just grabbed a bowl and started to mix up whatever concoction he had been planning to do in the blender. Derek let out a sigh of relief, and then his glare was back.

"Lydia! Allison!" He roared.

"Yeah, dude, don't think they're going to hear you," said the man who had saved his blender. "Lydia and Jackson disappeared ages ago, and last time I checked, Allison and my man Scott were getting it on in the bathroom."

"In the bathroom?" Derek's face was a mixture of disgust and confused. "They have a fucking bedroom, why do they need to do it in the _bathroom_?!"

"I don't know," the other man looked just as confused, giving him a sympathetic shrug. "But, uh, I did my best, and managed to save the TV, and the painting in the hallway..." he twisted his mouth and then remembered his latest achievement. "Oh, and the blender!" He pointed above the fridge, looking extremely proud, and despite how pissed off he was in that moment, Derek couldn't help but give a small smile.

"I appreciate that," he said in a low voice. "Uh, I'm Derek."

"Yeah. Big, broody and gorgeous," the guy grinned and shrugged. "I kind of put that together." Derek blinked in surprise at his words, but Stiles didn't look at all embarrassed. "I'm Stiles, Scott's best friend."

"Right, yeah," Derek nodded. That made sense. "Uh..." for a moment he had no idea what to say and then numbly stuck out his hand. "Hi." There was a gorgeous lopsided grin on Stiles face as he took his hand and shook it firmly. Derek searched for something to say, but he really had nothing, and then all of sudden there was a crash in the lounge and Derek's eyes widened and he ran from the room, Stiles close behind him. It turned out to just be coffee table tipping over, and Derek tensed his fists at his side as he shook his head and looked around. "I'm going to kill them. I'm going to fucking kill them."

"Yeah, well, I don't know them as well as you do, but from what I've seen about Lydia, you can't really say no to her," Stiles prompted from behind him.

"I'm going to lock myself in my room for the rest of the night and then kill them in the morning," Derek decided in a low voice.

"Right," Stiles shrugged and clapped his hands together. "I think that I'm done for the evening. I don't think Scott is going to be coming downstairs anytime soon." Derek was actually pretty disappointed that the younger boy was leaving, but refrained from saying anything. "I'll catch you around, yeah?" Derek just looked at him for a long few minutes before he realized that he was actually meant to respond to that comment.

"Uh, yeah! Yeah, right," he flashed a tight smile and got a wide grin in response, before Stiles was loping out the front door. Derek swallowed hard as his eyes lowered to the boys ass, taking in how good they looked in those skinny jeans and then flushed red as Stiles looked over his shoulder once more to wave goodbye.

Yeah.

He could see how Malia had a crush on him.

* * *

Derek couldn't stop thinking about Stiles from that night, and then for the following nights; that charming, boyish smile and natural confidence. And he especially couldn't forget the way that he had blatantly called him 'gorgeous'. Derek tried to convince himself that he was just over thinking things because he _wanted_ it to mean something, but the word still kept floating around his head.

The next time that Derek saw Stiles, it was only a few weeks later, and this time, they were both alone, and there were no other distractions. He had gone into is favourite coffee shop after work, needing a few minutes to himself between the rush at his work and then the chaos at his home. Stiles was in there, ordering a drink and flirting with the girl behind the counter. When he caught sight of Derek though, his flirting quickly shifted, projecting right toward the taller man.

"Hey, stranger," he grinned. "How you doing?" Derek was not good with conversation, he never really had been. He was more the strong, silent type. And yet an hour later, he was ordering his second coffee, and telling Stiles all about...Well, all about everything.

It was kind of easy, because it sounded as though Scott had already told Stiles most things. Like about the fire, and the reason why Derek had opened a sort of halfway house, but Stiles didn't act as though he minded hearing again. In fact, he remained quiet and his eyes attentive, only making a few noises at the back of his throat every so often, encouraging Derek to continue.

Afterwards, they had walked toward the car park together. They stopped by a beat up blue jeep that Stiles had said he had had since he and Scott were in high school, and the younger boy had turned him.

"Don't take offence to this or anything..." Stiles began, and Derek felt a strange sense of dread fill his stomach, wondering if he had just poured his heart out to some random stranger who now thought that he was a total emotional nutcase. "But how long has it been since you talked to someone?" Derek gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "God, I live with four girls who _always_ want to talk, and then four guys who can do their fair share as well. I _always_ talk to people."

"No, I meant like...Like _this_ ," Stiles said, waving his hand between the two of them and Derek got his meaning. His cheeks flushed a little red under his five o'clock shadow and he dropped his eyes down to his feet, which he was scuffing on the ground.

"Oh, uh...I don't know," he muttered. "Never really need too."

"Well now, that's bullshit," Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes. "Everyone needs too. And it sounded as thought you had gone a long time without talking to anyone." Derek didn't really know how to respond, and he sort of hoped that the silence would discourage Stiles, but he remained resolute, standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest.

"The others...They need me to be strong, you know?" Derek mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. He let out a huff of laughter and tried to shrug it off but Stiles was having none of it, still just standing there, watching him with gorgeous, honey-coloured eyes. So Derek took in a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Okay, look, I'm sorry hat I just randomly started dumping all this shit on you—we've only met twice! Uh, I'll see you around," he started backing away, toward his Camaro when Stiles reached out and gripped his elbow.

"Wait, what? No! No, I wasn't meaning _go_ —" Stiles bumbled. "Look, I just meant exactly what I said, okay? It sounded as though you needed to talk." Derek really wasn't sure where he was going with this, so he just stayed quiet. "If you're..." Stiles let go of his arm and twisted his lips, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, looking a little uncomfortable. "If you're not cool with talking to them; you can always talk to me." Derek's eyebrows pulled together and Stiles took that as rejection, because he quickly backtracked and that confidence he seemed to exude was fading. "I mean, if you want to. You don't have to. It's just, like, if you _wanted_ to talk—"

"Thanks," Derek cut him off with a smile. It was tiny, a pull at the corners of his mouth, but it was genuine. Stiles fell quiet and then gave him another one of his big grins, looking completely at ease again. "It was good seeing you, Stiles," he nodded and licked his tongue along his lower lip, feeling a little nervous and then feeling something a whole lot different when he saw Stiles track the movements of his tongue and heat flare up in his golden eyes. There was a tension suddenly between them and Derek's didn't know what was going on, so he looked down at he keys in his hands. "I better go."

"Yeah, yeah, uh, totally," Stiles swallowed hard and gave an awkward wave with his hand as Derek turned around and walked back toward his car. He got inside and turned on the engine, but it wasn't until the jeep with Stiles inside had pulled away that he started driving toward home.

And he felt a whole lot lighter than he had in a long time.

* * *

After that, it seemed as though Stiles was around a whole lot more. There were even nights when he would stay over, crashing on the sofa in Scott and Allison's room, or in the spare mattress in Isaac Lahey's room, or on the sofa in the living room. Derek wondered idly why Stiles had never asked if he could stay in his room, but then he quickly dismissed the thought.

It wasn't as though they were _friends_.

Scott and Stiles had been best friends forever, and it seemed as though Isaac and Stiles had also known each other for a while as well. So it made sense that he would stay with them, rather than with the older guy upstairs who sort of just grunted occasionally, apart from the one time that he had randomly opened up and completely spilled his guts.

Derek also wondered if Stiles' offer still stood, or if he had just said it because he didn't want Derek to feel bad about being a total open book. Because it wasn't as though they ever actually got any time alone to talk, so he really had no idea.

Stiles had these two completely differently personalities. There was the personality, like the first time that he had met him; goofy, sweet and seemingly without a care in the world. But then there was the guy from the second time that they had met; serious, intense and caring a whole lot more than he should.

Derek couldn't decide which one of the two he liked more, and in the end, he was just glad he didn't have to choose, and that he could have both of them in one person.

Not that he could actually _have_ both of them.

Because Stiles wasn't his to _have_.

It's just that the more he got to know him, the more he wanted there to be something more than friendship. If what they had could even be called friendship...Maybe just a passing acquaintance.

God, he was so confused.

It had been so long since Derek had actually felt this way. He had had plenty of sex. Plenty of one night stands. But he had only had two relationships, one male, one female, and they had both been terrible. They had started good and then just sort of turned to shit, and ended with Derek not feeling as though he could trust someone like that again.

And after it had happened a second time, he hadn't.

But Stiles...Shit, there was just _something_ about Stiles.

* * *

"Derek," there was a knock at his door. The dark haired man sprung from his bed at the sound of a very familiar voice on the other side of his door. He could feel his heart beating a whole lot faster than it had been two seconds ago when he was watching re-runs of _Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_ and he tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. "Derek? You awake?" He snorted at that.

"Its four in afternoon, Stiles," he grunted. " _Yes_ , I'm awake." There was some hesitation, and then the door opened and the younger boys head poked around the corner, flashing him a grin.

"What's up, dude?" Stiles greeted him.

"Uh," Derek frowned as he looked around. "Nothing much."

"You mind some company?" He asked, already walking into the room, not too bothered about an actual reply. Derek swallowed hard when Stiles kicked the door shut behind him and then walked over to the double bed, sitting down and making himself comfortable.

"Yeah, sure, make yourself at home," Derek rolled his eyes. He had meant it to be playful, but he caught a flash of uncertainty cross Stiles' face and his body tensed. "No, I was kidding—you can stay," he quickly assured him. Stiles went back to looking all happy and he looked up at be TV.

"Ooh, I love this show," he grinned. Derek was about to resume his position that he had been in before Stiles had interrupted him, but then he realised that he would be on the bed.

With Stiles.

"I don't bite," Stiles said, seemingly able to read Derek's mind.

And that was how he spent the rest of his Sunday night.

Sitting on the bed, next to Stiles, watching re-run after re-run of _Fresh Prince of Bel-Air._ Their arms were touching the whole time, and every now and then their knees would bump together and Derek couldn't even explain that feeling he got in his chest.

All he knew was that it was the feeling he kept getting whenever he was around Stiles, and he didn't want it to go away.

* * *

Work had been gruelling. Usually, Derek had nothing to do with the customers. This was on purpose, because he really wasn't what could be described as a 'people person'. But their receptionist called in sick, more likely she was just hungover, and there were just too many people coming in today to be handled by the two other mechanics.

So he ended up having to actually communicate with his customers, and try and explain things to them in a way that was completely dumbed down but that didn't sound condescending. And then when they started going on and on about how horrible _their_ days had been, he had to act as though he actually gave a shit.

Which he really didn't.

So by the time he got home, he was in a foul mood. All he wanted to do was eat, have a shower and then crash out on his bed and put something mindless on TV. He also really wanted a massage, but he wasn't about to asked Jackson or Scott or one of the others for that.

He got that it was a Friday night, and they were all extremely happy that it was the end of the week, which meant no Uni classes for two days and only a couple of hours work for the ones who had jobs in the weekends, but Derek was not at all in the mood for the laughter and the yelling and the mess that came from living with seven other people.

Derek followed the smell of pizza, praying that there was some left in the kitchen, but all he saw were empty boxes and dirty dishes piled on the bench.

"Oh, Derek's home!" He heard Vernon Boyd announce from the lounge, where everyone must be gathered.

"Oh, Der-ek!" Shouted Erica, sounding inebriated. "Can you please take us for a bottle run?!" There was a laugh and a couple of hiccups, confirming that his room mates were drinking. "We started but then we didn't have enough..." She giggled again and Derek let out a growl of frustration under his breath, one that none of them could hear.

Or at least he thought.

"You okay, man?" Stiles asked from the doorway. Derek looked over at him in surprise, not remembering seeing his Jeep parked outside.

"I'm fine," he grunted. "Just tired." He hated being this rude to Stiles, but he was just getting angrier by the minute, especially when he opened the fridge and saw that they had eaten the rest of last nights dinner as well, literally leaving him with nothing to eat. The younger man didn't say a anything for a moment, licking his tongue over her lower lip as he watched Derek's tense movements.

"Go upstairs and have a shower," Stiles said abruptly. Derek blinked at him, his thick eyebrows pulling together.

"What?" He stated.

"Go upstairs and have a shower," Stiles repeated. "You'll feel less pissy after a shower. And, well, you kinda smell," he added with a shrug and then widened his eyes as he realised now probably wasn't the best time to be insulting Derek. "But like, manly smell, you know? Not necessarily a bad smell—just sort of, well—"

"Stiles," Derek cut off his babbling, feeling slightly less darker than he had just a few minutes ago. "It's fine. I'm going to go have a shower."

"You go do that," Stiles let out a relieved sigh and gave him a thumbs up. Derek walked out of the room, ignoring Erica when she called out again, asking about the bottle run.

They could all be extremely dense at times.

It wasn't normal how long he spent in the shower. Usually he made sure to restrict himself to five or minutes, so as not to use up all the hot water. But fuck it. He was in a terrible mood today, and they were all drunk, it's not as though they were going to be sober enough to remember he used all the hot water. So he spent nearly twenty-five minutes under the warm spray. When Derek came out of the shower, he went directly across the hallway to his room, drying himself off and finding a pair of sweatpants. He was rummaging around in his drawers, trying to find a clean shirt, when there was a knock at the door.

"What?" He growled. Sure, he was feeling better after his shower, but if it was one of his roommates, coming in here and begging for him to take them down to the liquor store for a top up, he was going to punch them in the throat.

"I brought you dinner," Stiles said, walking in and holding up a bowl. Derek's stomach let out an embarrassingly loud rumble as the amazing smell of garlic and herbs hit him, and he felt like cheeks redden slightly. "You sound like you need it," he gave him a cheeky grin as he entered the room and held it out to him.

"What is—did you make this?" Derek asked as he took the bowl from him. It looked as good as it smelt and his stomach let out another grumble.

"Yeah, I did, but not now. It's leftovers of mine from last night. You were in the shower for a while, so I just stopped by my place on the way back picked it up on my way back," Stiles replied as he sat down on Derek's bed, waiting for the verdict as the muscular man stabbed his fork into the pasta bake and then shoved it into his mouth.

The moan he let out was practically orgasmic and Stiles let out a laugh.

"It was my mums dish. So you can thank her for that spiritual experience you're having right now," Stiles said.

"Thank her?" Derek asked through a mouthful. "God, I want to _marry_ her." Stiles was still smiling but it faded it slightly as he nodded and looked away. Derek wondered what that reaction was from but didn't comment as he continued to eat until he finished off his bowl. "Seriously, Stiles. That was awesome," he commented as he came over and sat down next to him on the bed.

"No problem," Stiles grin widened again, his whiskey coloured eyes lighting up.

"Wait, you said you picked it up in your way back," Derek frowned. "Way back from where."

"I took the others to a party," Stiles shrugged. "Scott's and Allison are away anyway, they're away this weekend visiting Mel, his mum. And then Jackson and Lydia have that concert out of town, and so they won't be back til tomorrow evening. And I just told Boyd and Erica and Isaac that there was a party, and they were all pretty drunk so they thought it sounded like a good idea. So I dropped them off—and don't worry. I haven't had anything to drink, so I will pick them up when they're ready to come home as well." Derek was staring at him, not too sure what to say, and Stiles looked a little nervous, eyes darting from side to side. "Uh, I just kinda got the impression that you wanted some peace and quiet tonight. And it just feels as though you're always looking out for everyone else and you never put yourself first, so I thought I could help you out...I, uh...If I was overstepping I—"

"You're amazing, you know that?" Derek suddenly said, and then almost jumped out of his skin as he realised what he had uttered.

That was most definitely _not_ what he had planned to say.

At all.

Think, yeah. Of course.

Say? Absolutely not.

And Stiles looked just as stunned as he was.

"Shit, uh," Derek jumped off the bed and started pacing, one of his hands going to the back of his head and scratching through his hair. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that." His cheeks were burning with how embarrassed he was, and he was considering making a break for it, sprinting out of the house—fuck it if he was only wearing sweatpants—but then there was a hand on his arm.

"Were you thinking it, though?" Stiles asked, his voice so soft it was barely audible, standing beside Derek.

"Thinking what?" Derek frowned and then it was Stiles' turn to blush.

"That I'm amazing," he mumbled out, dropping his eyes from Derek's and glancing to the side. This was one of those times when Stiles wasn't acting completely sure of himself and confident. In fact, he was looking pretty damn unconfident, standing there, a few inches shorter than Derek.

"Yes," Derek found himself saying, his brain to mouth filter seemingly out of order eat the moment. " _God_ , yes." Stiles' pretty pink mouth lifted at the corners, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"Good, " he said, his voice a little husky, striking something in the pit of Derek's stomach. "Because I think that about you too." Derek's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise and Stiles gave a one shouldered shrug. "Shit. Can you blame a guy? I mean, you're kinda gorgeous—like _model_ material right there," he waved his hand up and down Derek's body. "And you're funny, when you're not being all broody and serious. And then even when you _are_ being all broody and serious, you can be really funny—and it's even more funny, because you're trying _not_ to be. And you just—you just care _so much_ ," the babbling was slowing down and the smile had dropped from his face, his expression earnest as his hand tightened around Derek's arm. "God, you care about people so much, and I just feel as though someone needs to show _you_ that they care too. To look after you. And I—I mean, I kinda wanna be that person."

That was it.

That was everything that he had to say.

Stiles was holding his breath, completely at the mercy of whatever Derek was going to throw his way.

Derek stared at him for a long time, and Stile was about ready to just leave. Just haul ass and get out of the house when Derek croaked out,

"I want—" his voice broke off and he cleared his throat, looking down at his feet. "I want that too," he finished. He looked back up, wondering what exactly was meant to happen _now_ , but it seemed as though Stiles had that all figured out, launching himself forward and pushing their lips together.

Everything about the kiss was just as good as Derek had been imagining since the moment that he had met Stiles. His lips were perfect and plush and he tasted slightly of pizza and of mint chewing gum and his tongue just felt _so_. _fucking_. _right._ when it rolled into his mouth. There was no way in hell that he was able to hold back his moan as Stiles' hands gripped the back of his head and pulled a little roughly at the strands.

"I want you," Derek said, surprising even himself. "I want you, Stiles— _shit_ , I want you." Stiles looked too stunned to even reply, and Derek realised that this was probably the first time he had looked lost for words. He jerked his head in a nod, mouth slack jawed, his head bobbing up and down a ridiculous amount of times before he was backing up toward the bed.

And nearly ending up ass over head on the ground when his foot caught the edge of the bedside table.

Derek couldn't hold back his snort and Stiles gave him a mock glare.

"No one could ever accuse you of being smooth, could they?" Derek muttered as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, that speech was pretty smooth," Stiles retorted as he moved to stand in front of him. Derek shook his head, still grinning—biting down on his lower lip to stop himself from laughing.

"No. No, it wasn't," he smirked. "Adorable and perfect, maybe. But not _smooth_."

"Well," Stiles shrugged, not looking too bothered. "It did the trick, didn't it?" Derek was about to reply when Stiles was bending down and pushing their lips together again. It was more forceful this time, Stiles clearly with the upper hand given his position, and Derek was more than happy to relent and let him take over. Stiles knew exactly what he was doing, biting down on Derek's lips and sucking on his tongue, nuzzling his own nose against his and tugging at his hair. He hadn't even gone anywhere near Derek's lower half—or even his torso, really—and he could already feel his cock achingly hard.

Without talking, Stiles had Derek move backwards on the bed, and then shift around so that he was stretched out with his head on the pillows. He's followed him down, laying half on top of him, one hand still in his hair while the other started exploring his body. Stiles just kept kissing him as his other hand pinched at one of his nipples and made Derek jerk and his breath stutter.

"Tell me if you ever want me stop," Stiles mumbled, barely moving his mouth back enough to get the words out.

"I don't think I'll ever tell you to stop," Derek managed to rasp out as Stiles hand paused at his waistband. He toyed with it for a moment, and if Stiles wasn't still kissing, driving him crazy with his tongue and the hand that was relentlessly stroking through his hair, Derek might have let out a frustrated growl. He didn't waste too much time though, his hand sliding into the loose sweatpants and briefs and then his hand was circling around his cock. "Oh, _fuck_."

"We will, don't worry," Stiles mumbled, moving his swollen lips away from Derek's and nipping his way across his jaw, at his earlobe and then at his neck. Derek didn't even roll his eyes at the childish comeback, his thoughts completely caught up with that face that _Stiles' hand_ was around _his cock_.

"Fuck," Derek repeated, his voice rough as he squeezed his eyes shut. Stiles licked at a spot on his neck, grazing it with his teeth and then biting down softly. Derek felt his cock pulse in Stiles' hand, pre-come gathering at the tip. He hadn't even started moving his hand yet and Derek felt as though he was seconds away from finishing.

And he really didn't want that.

Not if Stiles had actually planned on them fucking tonight.

Because he wanted that.

God, he _needed_ that.

Stiles flexed his fingers, lightly stroking at his pubic hair, before wrapping around his cock once more, and this time, moving his hands up and down. Derek's hands curled into fists at his sides and he heard a little huff from Stiles before he was kissing him again.

"God, you're gorgeous," Stiles whispered, moving his experienced hand faster. It didn't matter that Derek currently couldn't really remember _how_ he was supposed to kiss back, because Stiles was doing all of that for him. The heat that was burning over all of his skin and setting every nerve ending in his body on fire intensified as Stiles shifted slightly and whispered directly in his ear, hot and heavy. "You want me to fuck you, Derek? You want me to go inside you, and fuck you until you can't remember what a shit day you had?" The noise that Derek made didn't even sound human, thrusting his hips upward to meet Stiles' movements. "And then later, after we've had a nap, I'm going to take it so slow, and I'm going to lick every inch of your body. God, Derek, I've wanted to do that since the first time I saw you—would you let me do that?" Derek tried to reply, but he was pretty sure that whatever he managed to say was unintelligible.

Suddenly, Stiles pulled his hand away and Derek almost whined at the loss of contact, his eyes opening ever so slightly. As soon as he caught sight of Stiles, he forced himself to open his eyes fully, so that he could properly appreciate him, because the man next to him looked absolutely gorgeous.

His lips were swollen and his eyelids were heavy, his eyes so dark with lust that it looked as though his pupils were going to take over his complete iris.

"Where are your things?" Stiles asked, his voice dragging and heavy as he leaned over Derek, stealing another kiss. He managed to wave his hand to the side pitifully and Stiles reached over to open the drawer. Inside, there were a couple of books and a spare phone charger, and then he saw the box of condoms and a bottle of lube. He picked it up, licking his tongue over his mouth before looking back down at Derek. "We need to get you out of these pants," he grunted as he gripped the waistband and pulled it downward, Derek lifting his ass so that Stiles could pull them off easier.

"What about you?" Derek mumbled. "You're wearing _way_ too many clothes." Stiles' eyes lit up even more at the comment, and he seemed more than happy to pull off his clothes and promptly almost fell off the bed. Derek rolled his eyes, leaning back on the pillows and waiting for Stiles to regain his balance and settle between his legs.

"I see you smiling there," Stiles grumbled. "And just so you know, I can totally be graceful when the situation requires it."

"You don't think that this moment requires any grace?" Derek joked lightly as Stiles popped open the cap of lube.

"I feel as though I can totally be myself when I'm around you," Stiles shrugged and tipped some of the lube onto his hand. "Which is a hyperactive spaz, I guess." Derek smiled again, but it was in no way mocking. It was complete contentment. Stiles fell quiet again as he leaned forward, bracing one arm on the mattress beside Derek's hip and running two fingers up and down the cleft of his ass. Derek's whole body jerked, almost jumping off the mattress as he touched the tight ring of muscle. Stiles' stomach was twisted so tight that he had to pause and take in a deep, shaky breath before he breached Derek's hole, one finger sliding surprisingly easy inside of him. "Shit, Derek..." he sighed.

"I've been...Touching myself..." Derek's words were broken as Stiles pumped his finger in and out of him. "Thinking about you..." if Stiles wasn't knuckle deep in him and looking as strung out as him, then he would be embarrassed by the admission.

"Fuck, Derek, are you serious?" Stiles groaned, his cock throbbing, feeling even harder than it had been a minute ago at Derek's words. He touched a second finger to Derek's hole, slowly inching it inside, and then fell forward to steal another kiss from the taller man. The kiss was completely sloppy and filthy, and mainly just a clash and clack of teeth as Stiles scissored his fingers inside of Derek.

"Another one," Derek managed to say, thrusting himself downward to meet Stiles' touch. Stiles was more than happy to comply, pushing a third finger inside, stretching Derek. This time, Derek needed a second to breath through the slight pinching pain which gave way to pleasure as Stiles began moving his hand. Derek was groaning, his head turned and biting into the pillow, trying to hold back how loud he wanted to be.

"There's no one here, gorgeous," Stiles reminded him. "You can be as loud as you want." Derek wasn't sure if it was the reminder they were alone, or if it was the pet name that fell so casually from Stiles' mouth, but whatever it was, he let out a moan that he barely recognized as his own. "That's it," Stiles breathed. "That's it."

"Want your cock, Stiles," Derek said, his muscles clamping down hard on Stiles' hand. "Need your cock in me." Stiles swallowed hard and wet his lips with his tongue before withdrawing his fingers and pulling a condom out of the box. He tore it open with his teeth and slid it on, pouring some more lube over his hand and jacking himself a few times to spread it, before stretching over Derek, his hands on either side of his head.

"Look at me, gorgeous," Stiles said, bumping his nose against Derek's as he waited for him to open his eyes. The pupils were blown and they were heavy with lust. "Just before I do this..." Stiles looked nervous, sort of how he did when this had all started. "I need you to know that everything I said—I meant all of it." Derek managed to focus on what Stiles was saying, dragging himself away from how much he needed Stiles to be in him.

"I know," he replied. "So did I." Stiles looked like he wanted to say more, biting down on his lower lip, but like he wasn't too sure what to say.

Rendered speechless twice in one night.

That had to be some kind of record.

"I want..." Derek wasn't too good with words at the best of times. "I want you...And me. Not just now, but properly..." he really hoped that Stiles understood his stilted words, and it seemed as though he did, because that wide, open smile of his spread over his gorgeous mouth and he leaned down and gave Derek another kiss, this one a lot softer, and sweeter.

"I promise we'll go slower next time," he whispered, before he pushed himself inside Derek. Derek let out a guttural moan, Stiles' noises mingling with his own. Stiles was gentle, making sure he didn't hurt Derek as he seated himself deep inside Derek's tight heat, but that was where slow stopped.

As soon as Stiles knew that Derek could handle it, he started fucking him hard and fast. Derek's grunts were getting louder, and his hands were curled in fists at his sides, screwing the sheets up. When Stiles hit his prostate, his eyes almost rolled back into his head, his breaths coming out in pants. Stiles was staring down at him, his body on the cusp so quickly, but he refused to come before Derek did.

"Can you come without me touching you?" Stiles asked, his voice rasping in Derek's ear, licking at his neck. "Can you come with just my cock inside your tight ass?" Derek felt his body spasm and he knew that he was only seconds away. He shifted one hand from where it was clenching the sheets and grabbed a handful of Stiles' perfect ass, his fingers digging in and jerking the boy even deeper inside of him. That was enough to push Stiles over the edge, the slight change in angle making him slam even harder against Derek's prostate, and Derek came in thick, white ropes against his chest just after him. For a long moment, neither of them moved, and then Stiles rolled off Derek, laying next to him, the pair of them both breathing heavily. Derek wasn't sure if he was ever going to be able to pull himself out of this post orgasm haze that he was in, and he barely registered Stiles getting off the bed and leaving the room.

When he came back, Derek forced his eyes open, and he saw that Stiles had gotten rid of the condom and wipe himself off, and had returned with a damp cloth. He diligently wiped down Derek's chest and spent cock, tossing it off to the side before laying back down on the bed next to Derek. He lay down on his stomach, the foot closest to Derek rubbing softly against his ankle while his arm was tossed over his waist.

"I'm waking you up in about an hour, and we're going to do that again," Stiles whispered in Derek's ear and Derek felt his skin heat and tighten, and his heart do that little hop-skip thing that Stiles managed to incite. "And in the morning, we're going to go back to my place for breakfast. Because there is _nothing_ in this house to eat." Derek turned his head, suddenly feeling ridiculously emotional. "Hey," Stiles gave him a smile and nuzzled his nose into Derek's neck. "I told you I wanted to look after you."

"Thank you," was all Derek really could say, feeling Stiles give him a soft kiss on the shoulder, letting out a contented sigh and then sounding as though he had fallen off to sleep. Derek fell asleep seconds later, a smile on his lips.

 _Let me know what you guys think :) Reviews make my world go round :) x_


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